


Doubling Up

by claro



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: An accident, enforced time spent together and a shared blanket....





	Doubling Up

'Well if it's any consolation I didn't want to be stuck in here with you either,' Greg snarled, pacing the floor as he tried to get a signal on his mobile, 'I am going to kill your fucking brother when I get my hands on him.'

'I don't believe Sherlock dislikes me enough to plant a bomb,' Mycroft said slowly, the words hard to get out.

Greg stopped looking at his phone and instead looked down at where Mycroft was sitting on the floor.

'Christ, Mycroft you look awful.'

'I'm sure I'll live,' Mycroft tried a small smirk but that didn't stop Greg dropping down beside him and starting to check the other man over. He stopped when Mycroft flinched away, then shook his head.

'I wouldn't make jokes like that. How had did you hit your head?'

Mycroft thought about this and the silence lasted so long that Greg started to worry the man had forgotten that Greg was expecting and answer. But then Mycroft spoke again, his voice sounding very far away.

'Quite hard I think.'

And Greg was on his feet again, back to his phone, this time with more determination than before. After a few minutes of nothing, he barely resisted the urge to hurl the stupid thing at the wall.

'Don't waste your energy, Detective Inspector, you won't get a signal down here.'

Greg looked at the rubble that had crushed what had once been Mycroft's desk.

'I don't suppose the deskphone will still work?'

Mycroft managed to raise and eye brow, but he seemed to be having trouble focusing on Greg now, which was worrying the policeman, not used to seeing the elder Holmes in any state of vulnerability.

'You are welcome to try and locate it.'

Greg sighed and closed his eyes for a second to try and compose himself.

'How long do you think it will take for them to find us?'

'I think that rather depends.'

'On how big the bomb was?' To Greg it had sounded pretty fucking big.

'On how many of my staff are still alive.'

That was the last answer Greg had wanted to hear.

'Hey,' he said, knealing down beside Mycroft again, 'Mycroft open your eyes. Stay awake.'

'Why?' Mycroft was definitely slurring now and really struggling to even open his eyes.

'Because you've got a concussion, and maybe a fracture too.

'You're a doctor now?' even in his injured and confused state the sarcasm still dripped from every syllable. 

'No, but I got punched in the head a lot.'

'Ah,' Mycroft nodded knowingly, 'Drunken brawls at a house of inebriation when your sporting team lost?'

Greg paused and then figured Mycroft probably already knew everything about him anyway, 'Drunken dad in our kitchen when he didn't like the look of my face.'

Mycroft slowly blinked open his storm coloured eyes that were showing obvious confusion. Perhaps he hadn't known that after all, and all of a sudden Greg didn't want to be having the conversation, so he reverted back to trying to keep Mycroft talking.

'So, right now I need you to stay awake until help comes. Okay?'

A nod was the only response.

'Talk to me, Myc.'

'What did you call me?'

'Sorry, just came out. I won't-'

'You called me that before once.'

Greg didn't want to admit that he called Mycroft that all the time, but only inside the confines of his own head. He was a bit embarrassed to discover that he'd said it aloud.

'I thought it...that you might...' Mycroft's expression fell slightly and he looked almost sad, 'Then you called me a sanctimonious... prink.'

Greg remembered that particular conversation then and he tried to look even slightly apologetic about it, 'It's 'prick' and, well, you have to admit that you sort of are. Sometimes.'

Mycroft smiled at his and his eyes closed again. Greg checked his watch. It had been almost two hours, surely the emergency services would have made some kind of headway into the building.

'Getting cold.' Mycroft murmured. 

'Yeah, well that's what happens when some overly dramatic slightly evil genius builds a concrete safe room thirty feet underground.'

'Seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'Most ideas do,' Greg conceded and then he noticed that Mycroft was starting to shiver slightly and he cursed himself for not thinking about shock. He shrugged out of his overcoat and draped it over the injured politician.

'What's this for?'

'Keep you warm.'

'You'll get cold.'

'Then we'll double up, come here,' and Greg shifted closer to Mycroft so that they were both under the coat, sides pressing against each other.

'What are-'

'Body heat will keep you warm, stop you going into shock.'

'Being under a blanket with you is quite shocking,' Mycroft agreed after a long and thoughtful pause.

'Well, it's a coat, but since you're definietly concussed I'll let you away with it.'

'Very wise.'

Greg sighed, 'Tell you what, we could do with that big horse blanket Sherlock wears right now.'

Mycroft made a sound that could have been a laugh, 'You would have to pry if off his dead body.'

'Probably.'

Greg knew he was going to have to do most of the work in the conversation from then on, so he talked to Mycroft, and kept asking him questions until he managed to get a reply, even if it was just one work or a grunt. Every so often Mycroft would struggle to the end of a sentence. 

'Why?' he asked suddenly, a lot more alert than he had been for the last half hour.

'Why what?' 

'I don't understand why your father didn't like your face. It's a nice face.'

As if this day wasn't surreal enough already. Greg tried to lighten the mood again, not really sure how wise it was to be having this conversation.

'Yeah, well I like it.'

'And I liked it when you called me Myc.'

'That's a relief,' Greg said, and meant it.

'...you...can call me that... if you want.'

A thump in his chest that Greg decided to ignore for now.

'And I won't have you deported.'

'Promise?'

'Hmm.'

'Well that's good to know.'

'...for now,' Mycroft finished slowly.

#

'Ah, Mr Holmes,' Greg smiled a week later as he answered the phone, 'How are you?'

'Very well, Detective Inspector. I wanted to thank you for you assistance.'

'That's okay. It's my job. Well, sort of...sometimes.'

He could practically feel Mycroft's smirk down the line.

'I..I was wondering if you would allow me to take you to...dinner...this evening...as an expression of my gratitude.'

And there was that thump in his chest back again and for a split second Greg was worried he was actual having a heart attack.

'I...' he began, because how do you respond to a question like that, 'I don't think-'

'I understand,' just like that Mycroft's tone was back to it's usual clear and cold one, 'Please forgive me for being inappropriate.'

'It's not that,' Greg said quickly, well aware that this was not an offer that would ever be repeated and for some reason that send a shiver of panic through his chest, 'I...I would love to. But tonight might be awkward. I'm on lates and it would be after eleven before I get out of here so a bit late for dinner...'

He left his words hanging, barely breathing as he waited for Mycroft's response. Don't mess this up, his brain was telling him, and he still hadn't figured out why it had started thinking like that over the last week. The silence on the other end of the line stretched on and on and Greg almost wondered if Mycroft had hung up on him, then there was a soft intake of breath and the politician spoke again.

'Perhaps I could just take you straight to be instead and dinner can wait for another time?'

#

 

Mycroft sighed and leaned back against Greg as the policeman kissed the back of his neck, pulling the blanket up around them.

'What was it you called sharing a blanket again?'

'What? Doubling up?'

'Hmm. It certainly has some merits.'

Greg smiled and kissed him again.


End file.
